


Sleepy

by olosta



Series: Disasters are not funny (or are they?) [2]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Awkward Sexual Situations, Blow Jobs, Demisexual Katsuki Yuuri, Illustrated, M/M, Sexual Humor, Victor can't keep his mouth shut, sleep is important ok, so is food
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-12
Updated: 2017-06-12
Packaged: 2018-11-13 09:21:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11181753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/olosta/pseuds/olosta
Summary: Yuuri has more or less settled in Saint Petersburg, and he and Victor are busy with preparing for Worlds. So far, so good. But their life together still raises many unexpected challenges, as Victor learns the hard way (no pun intended) one sleepy evening.





	Sleepy

**Author's Note:**

> _lentjaj_ means lazy person in Russian
> 
> now **illustrated! **(contains spoilers; you can find the link at the end)****

When Yuuri was young, he used to imagine that sex consisted of hot, filthy kisses, all-consuming passion and mind-shattering orgasms. Or at least, that’s what everyone around seemed to think; he himself felt mostly indifferent when it came to sex. 

Now, when he acquired a boyfriend of his own, Yuuri was learning that it was not quite like that: it was really good, but also time consuming, mostly messy and silly at times; sometimes it was “Victor, not now, I want to finish this round, I’m just this short of levelling up,” and occasionally “Victor, I’m full, I’ve just finished a whole bowl of katsudon. Honestly, if you want to have sex now, I can guarantee you that you’ll see the katsudon again, on the pillow.” 

Victor, on the other hand, had experienced a fair amount of sex in the form of one stand nights or short, ardent encounters. Now he was learning that Yuuri worked differently than all his former lovers. He could be passionate if he was in the mood, no doubt about that. But he also had his own, peculiar set of rules when it came to intimacy. He was very reticent about doing anything more than kissing when he felt dirty or sweaty, like after training or running. Victor could easily comply with that; he was fond of cleanliness himself, although he wouldn’t mind a bit of sweat in a quick locker-room romp now and then.

He had soon learned that sex was not among the top priorities in Yuuri’s life. He was quite sure that skating came first, which Victor could understand – they were, after all, professional athletes, and Victor put skating before anything else too. But he also suspected that for Yuuri, food and sleep took precedence as well, which he tolerated just the same, but could understand a bit less.

Occasionally Victor made fun of him because of that, calling him lentjaj, and refused to tell him what it meant when Yuuri asked about it. It also satisfied his urge to tease Yuuri a bit from time to time.

Sometimes Yuuri needed just a little prodding to get going. Victor would snuggle up to him, start kissing and stroking him, and if that wouldn’t do, he would apply a more drastic measure and rub his hips on Yuuri’s thigh, or bum, or wherever he could reach, repeating his name like a mantra: “Yuuri, Yuuuuriiii… Yuuriyuuriyuuriiiiii…”

If it achieved the desired reaction and Yuuri started to reciprocate, Victor would quickly rid them of clothing and proceed with his actions before Yuuri had the chance to reconsider.

When this strategy didn’t work and Yuuri pushed Victor away with an annoyed sound, Victor knew the battle was lost, and he settled for cuddling or kissing. In time, he learned to be more perceptive to the small signals of Yuuri’s bodily communication and catch up way earlier, before Yuuri had to push him away physically and tell him outright no. 

It was a trial-and-error process and sometimes it earned him the stink eye from Yuuri, but they were getting there slowly. 

…

Less than a week remained until they were to leave for the 4CC in Pyeongchang, and after that they could concentrate on the Worlds, Victor mused as he was preparing to go to bed. Yuuri had already started to tens up a bit; the pressure of performing well in the championship was slowly creeping up on him. He subjected himself to a brutal training regimen in the past week – Victor had to slow him down perforce to prevent Yuuri injuring himself so shortly before the competition. Still, they were both so exhausted on the evening that they barely managed to eat supper and walk Makkachin before they fell into bed, fast asleep. 

Only one more day of training; then they would have their day off. Victor was adamant on keeping Sundays free of any kind of exertion save for a light run in the morning and afternoon. 

But he was feeling exceptionally perky tonight – having managed to persuade Yuuri to finish an hour earlier today – and found himself humming a little tune under his nose while he brushed his teeth. A quick dab of moisturiser under his eyes, and he was ready to slip under the covers with his lovely Yuuri. He also felt a bit turned on. Maybe they could tonight… with only one more day to go…

But perhaps he had dallied for a bit too long in the bathroom, because he found Yuuri sound asleep in the bedroom, buried under the comforter on the wrong side of the bed. That absolutely wouldn’t do, Victor decided. He quietly called to Makkachin, who was perched on the bed at Yuuri’s feet, and managed to coax him out into the living room. The poodle gave Victor an accusing look, but settled obediently into her doggy bed with a huff and closed her eyes. Victor tiptoed back to Yuuri and gently pulled down the covers. Bending over his sleeping boyfriend, he nuzzled his nose in the crook of his neck and nibbled on his ear, whispering: “Yuuri, love, wake up.”

Yuuri turned slowly, blinked at him sleepily with an unfocused gaze, but moved to make place. Victor slipped next to him, sliding his hands under Yuuri’s pyjama shirt. The other man mumbled: “Victor, I’m kind of tired.”

But the Russian legend was not to be deterred so easily.

“We haven’t done anything since last week,” Victor complained, gliding his hands over the sleep-warm chest of his lover. He purred with delight when his thumbs caught on the slowly hardening nubs. “You can sleep plenty later tonight, and we can get up half an hour later in the morning,” he said and kissed the half asleep younger man, slipping him the tongue.

“Fine, fine, I’m awake,” Yuuri murmured into Victor’s mouth, kissing him sloppily. He rolled them around, pinning Victor under him, and proceeded to cover the other man’s neck and clavicles with lazy, wet kisses.

Hooray, it worked, Victor thought happily. The fact that Yuuri responded to Victor’s prompting, albeit a little sluggishly, was an auspicious sign. He chuckled, entangling one of his hands into the dark mane moving above his chest. He slid his other hand down the younger man’s back, reaching for the hem of his T-shirt. But Yuuri deftly slipped out of his grasp, keeping his all of his clothes on. He then slithered down Victor’s body and started tugging on the Russian’s pants. 

“Up,” he commanded.

“Yuuri, you don’t have to, if you don’t feel like it, I can do you as well,” Victor protested weakly, but he lifted his hips obediently.

“It’s my turn,” Yuuri insisted stubbornly.

“You know I don’t keep tabs,” Victor said, propping himself up on his elbows and giving Yuuri a fixed look. “You don’t need to feel obliged, just because last time I was the one who…”

Yuuri clicked his tongue and swatted at the Russian’s hip. “Just shut up and lay back!”

“Okay, okay. I’ll be silent as a mouseaaaahh… mmh,” Victor’s words dissolved into an inarticulate moan as Yuuri took him into his mouth without further ado. 

Yuuri was getting too good at this, thought Victor. 

Yuuri applied himself to the challenges of lovemaking with the same determination he showed on the ice. Sometimes he was concentrating too hard and Victor had to remind Yuuri to relax a bit and just go with the flow. 

Yuuri was hollowing out his cheeks, sucking leisurely on the head. The touch of his hands on Victor’s hip was feather-light; he was stroking his skin in slow circles.

“Mmmh, Yuuri!”

…although his pace was somewhat slower today than usual. Nevertheless, Yuuri’s languid movements were filling Victor with bliss. He moaned unabashedly, incoherent sentences interspersed with Yuuri’s name leaving his mouth in a continual string.

“Yuuri, aah my mmnh… Yuuri!”

Oh, but he was suspiciously slow now.

“… Yuuri?”

 

……

 

Yuuri was warming up on the ice while Victor was leaning on the boards on the other side of the rink, chatting with Mila. He squinted, realizing that something was odd. For starters, Mila was positively cackling, and Victor kept gesticulating wildly in a manner that hinted he was complaining. Oh well, he had been grouchy for some reason since this morning. Yuuri was trying to dismiss a stupid thought creeping into his mind. He wouldn’t, would he? Would he???

He stopped and observed the duo a bit longer. Now, he didn’t understand much Russian (yet), especially not when the speaker was on the other side of the rink. But he did understands Victor’s body language and the growing suspicion that he was narrating something he shouldn’t was turning to cold certainty. He scrambled through the ice towards his coach/boyfriend to do some quick damage control (alternatively, to salvage the last dregs of his dignity).

…

“And then he just stopped.”  
Victor sounded whiny even to his own ears. He leaned closer to Mila and lowered his voice a bit. “He just… fell asleep with my dick in his mouth, can you believe it?”

Mila doubled on herself, wheezing with laughter. “I can’t, oh my God,” she dropped into a squat, holding herself with one hand against the barrier. 

“It’s not funny, you know?” Victor continued lamenting. “What does it mean? Doesn’t he find me attractive any more? Am I too old? Am I boring???”

“Ahaha, Victor I’m sorry but it is funny, oh my belly, I can’t…”

…

Yuuri skated over quickly with a sinking feeling in his stomach. “What’s so funny?”

They both looked at him, Mila trying to stifle her giggles, Victor with a slightly guilty expression – or did Yuuri just imagine it?

“We were just… ah… remembering this one time when Georgi tore his costume during an exhibition. At a delicate place. And he wasn’t wearing a dancer belt. Right, Mila?”

The readhead nodded vigorously, wiping the tears from the corner of her eyes.

“Really?” Yuuri didn’t completely believe them, but at last he relented. “Ok, I’m going to go through the step sequence of Eros...” voice trailing out, he looked at Victor.

Victor nodded. “Do it. I’ll be with you right away.”

Victor slumped with relief when he realized he had just narrowly avoided being been caught by Yuuri. Perhaps it was not such a good idea to entertain his rink mate with misadventures from their bedroom. He fixed Mila with a stern gaze, putting a finger on his chin: “You know you can’t mention this to anyone. I mean, anyone. Yuuri would die of embarrassment if he knew I was discussing our sex life in the rink.”

Mila nodded emphatically. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell a soul.”

Just at that moment, Yuri was breezing by. He stopped sharply with a spray of ice shavings just in front of Victor and did a good impression of towering over him despite being a head shorter. “You’re disgusting, Nikiforov. If I were Yuuri, I would ban you to the couch for at least a month.” 

Victor gave him the fakest smile he could muster, wondering how much the brat heard. “I hope you’re not going to spill the beans to Yuuri,” he said. 

“I’m not stupid, old man. I don’t want him to commit suicide just because you couldn’t keep your mouth shut.” He shook his head for good measure and skated away in a flurry of blades, launching into a quad toe.

“Ah, so angry. Such teenage angst. You know, I think he has a crush on your Yuuri,” Mila said, chuckling.

“You know, I think you might be right,” Victor agreed. “But he isn’t mistaken; Yuuri would never leave the apartment if he knew I told you. So please, don’t tell anyone.”

Mila mimicked turning a key over her lips and throwing it away. She burst out in giggles again: “But honestly, it’s still the drollest thing I’ve heard in like, forever.”

Victor rolled his eyes and hurried after Yuuri. His mood had already improved a lot after he was able to get the evening incident off his chest by complaining to Mila. They had only a couple of hours more on the ice. No weight training, no ballet today, just a short evening run. He watched as Yuuri sped up and launched into a perfectly executed quad flip, and his heart skipped a beat when his Katsudon gave him the most dazzling smile after landing flawlessly.

Victor felt optimistic, and also a bit turned on. Maybe they could tonight…

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter has now an [illustration](https://twitter.com/SaniikaKatamari/status/975837703135744001) by the awesome and incredibly talented [Saniika](http://saniika.tumblr.com/). Don't forget to send her love too!
> 
> I have this idea about these two dorks slowly discovering the joys of a relationship (Victor) and sex (Yuuri); which journey happens not without a copious amount of funny and awkward situations—given Yuuri’s inexperience and occasional indecisiveness, courtesy of his anxiety. I also interpret Yuuri as demi-sexual, so he mostly missed the sex-hype train in his teens and now has to catch up with everything with Victor’s assistance.
> 
> This fic is an installment of [Disasters are not funny (or are they?)](http://archiveofourown.org/series/731346) series, which will consist of loosely connected oneshots (which can be read as stand-alone)


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